Auctioned for a Dollar, Claimed by the Billionaire Chapter 02

I hadn’t even reached baggage claim when Ryan called.

I answered, and his voice nearly blew out my eardrum.

“Ava! Are you out of your mind? Fifty grand on yourself? In front of everyone? Do you have any idea what you just did?”

“I accepted your invitation,” I said calmly. “Isn’t that what a good fiancée does?”

“Don’t get smart with me.” His voice dropped, tight with fury. “Damien Cross just bid a million dollars on you. You know why? Because he thinks Sterling Group is a joke now. He’s mocking me. He’s mocking you. And you poured gasoline on it.”

“You posted my grief photo for strangers to laugh at, Ryan. You lit the match.”

“It’s the truth!” he snapped. “That’s what you looked like! That’s who you are! I’m the one who had to stand next to you at every board dinner while people whispered. Do you know what that did to my reputation?”

I closed my eyes.

When Dad’s heart gave out, I fell apart. I stopped sleeping. I ate in the dark because food was the only thing that didn’t leave. People who’d smiled at me for twenty years started calling me “the Sterling heifer” behind my back.

Ryan was Dad’s protégé. He found me crying in the parking garage after the funeral. He sat on the cold concrete with me for three hours and whispered, “They don’t see you. I do. You’re beautiful, Ava.”

I believed him.

I believed him when he asked me to keep the engagement quiet “until the board settled.” I believed him when he said it was smarter if he ran the company while I healed. I believed him right up until I landed today.

“The rules are already locked in,” Ryan went on, cold and smug. “The winning bidder gets a first dance, hand-fed dessert, and a kiss on the big screen. And before the bidding closes, Lot 13 steps on the stage scale. Live. The final bid gets multiplied by your weight. It’s for the children’s hospital, Ava. You’d be raising a fortune. You should thank me.”

A scale. On stage. In front of four hundred people.

“Cancel your bet and apologize in the chat,” he finished. “Or I swear—”

“No.”

I hung up and blocked him.

The official rules hit my inbox a second later. Every line was built to humiliate me. The chat had already turned into a circus.

[A live weigh-in?! I’m buying a front-row table.]

[Damien Cross is 6’4″. Can he even get his arms around her for the slow dance?]

[A million bucks times 250 pounds. Hospital’s getting a new wing, boys.]

My phone lit up with a video call. Maya, my best friend since kindergarten. Her face was red, her eyes wet with rage.

“I saw the photo. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to drive to his penthouse and set his Porsche on fire.”

“Don’t,” I said. I looked at my reflection in the airport window. My voice came out calm. Ice calm. “Fire is too fast. He thinks a year changed nothing. He thinks I’m still the girl crying in the parking garage.”

Maya went quiet. “So what do we do?”

“He wants a show? I’ll give him one. In front of every investor, every board member, and every camera in Manhattan.”

Slowly, Maya smiled. “I’m calling my stylist.”

“Call everyone.”

I hung up and opened the chat again. They were still laughing, still guessing my weight like it was a carnival game.

Then a black notification bar dropped from the top of the screen.

An account that had never typed a single word in that chat was typing now. No profile photo. Just a black square.

Damien Cross: [She is not a lot number.]

Nobody answered. For one full minute, the most vicious chat in New York didn’t move.

Then a private message slid onto my screen.

Damien Cross: [Say one word and I’ll burn this auction to the ground.]

Before I could reply, a second message arrived.

Damien Cross: [I’m sorry it took me this long to find you again, Ava.]

Again?

I had never spoken to Damien Cross in my life.

Had I?